


something good, and right, and real

by seamanthedog



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 04:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17822246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamanthedog/pseuds/seamanthedog
Summary: Dusk was upon them and painted Andrew in a soft golden halo from behind. Neil licked the chocolate from his fingers and stopped himself from sighing. Contentment was a soft breeze that ruffled both their hair and Neil wondered how anyone could question their romance.Valentine's day is just another day for Neil.





	something good, and right, and real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nekojita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekojita/gifts).



> My gift for the AFTG Valentine Exchange 2019 [here!](http://aftgexchange.tumblr.com). My giftee, [nekojitachan](http://nekojitachan.tumblr.com/), or nekojita (I think that's who you are on ao3, if not let me know). Sorry no chocolate making here, but I hope this fits your other prompts of Andreil relaxing with each other!

Valentine’s Day wasn’t a big deal for them. They didn’t need a designated day to share their feelings for one another. That was every day. Whenever Andrew started Neil’s coffee in the morning or when Neil made sure to text when he arrived somewhere—there wasn’t going to be a Binghamton incident again. It meant they weren’t overly sentimental. Their “I love you’s” didn’t need to be said, so they weren’t.

The first few years together, Nicky had squawked and moaned at how “unromantic” they were. People had long since stopped trying to understand them and Neil was perfectly fine with that. Andrew cared even less. February 14th fell on a Thursday this year. Like any other Thursday without Exy practice, it filled with everything Neil forgot to do.

Hefting a bag filled with canned cat food, only a single pack of cigarettes—he kept trying to quit, Andrew was a bad influence, and several packs of nicotine gum—Neil made his way home. The day had been uneventful, a couple of hours spent analyzing Exy videos to prepare for next season and attempting to deep clean the apartment of cat hair, had left him needing to stretch his legs. The local mini-mart was a few blocks away so he headed that way while stretching the crick out of his neck.

The fluke on the way back was the bakery’s smell. Food was a novelty that Neil caught himself enjoying more and more. Hiding and running had meant it was just survival most of his life, but the Foxes had been persistent over the years. Taste of food mattered, like style of clothes mattered—Allison’s words—and Neil had developed a few likes. As a professional Exy player he should have cared about his diet, and tried to follow the team nutritionist’s plan, but he was also 24 and perpetually hungry.

The bakery had been there long before Neil and Andrew moved into their apartment. It was small, a generational place, that housed all the smells of a traditional pastry shop. Warm scones, delicate powered things, and chocolate were the central themes. And for Valentine’s Day, an assortment of heart shaped pastries glistened and beckoned in all the displays.

Eyes catching on one of the workers behind the counter, he knew what he was going to buy. Neil left the bakery with a soft bell sound behind him and a small bag with hearts plastered on the outside in his other hand. Chocolate and strawberries nestled inside. The strawberries were fresh and Neil had stopped to watch as the chocolate was poured over them—warm and smooth—until they hardened and were arranged into an artful heart. Andrew would scoff at the cheesiness of it and probably give Neil a blank stare—that wasn’t really blank. Neil could recognize those stares. There was always intensity, something knowing but just out of reach for Neil to understand, and Neil thought he got a little closer to whatever answer Andrew looked at him with.

“I am not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren’t mine.”

A wisp of a smile crossed his face as he remembered those words. They were still true, but Neil thought maybe they weren’t accusing anymore and he didn’t need answers anyway.

Toeing off his shoes at the door, King Fluffkins brushing up against his leg and purring as he walked past, he set the bags aside on the kitchen counter and picked up the strawberries instead. Music drifted from the bedroom. A soft voice sang over trance-like beats and Neil caught “we were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart.” Knowing where Andrew was before he stepped into the bedroom, Neil’s gaze swept to the open balcony doors.

Andrew sat perched on the balcony railing. His feet hooked against the rungs of a table in front of him, a book in his hand and a cigarette smoking in his other, and no care for anything else. Andrew faced heights like he faced everything else, unflinching. Shuffling to the threshold of the open door, he spoke.

“Brought you something.”

Neil didn’t hide the strawberries behind him and, with a sudden embarrassed jolt, almost wished he had. He didn’t get embarrassed, and Andrew had never given him cause to before, but a creeping doubt of Andrew liking it made him falter. It was gone in the next instant. Andrew glanced up, book drifting down to his side as his attention focused on him. His gaze was hawkish as it caught on the package of strawberries. A twitch of something darted across Andrew’s face and Neil watched as he stubbed out his cigarette to hop off the railing.

“Wondered why it took so long to buy cat food. Those fatasses don’t need anything fancy.” An affection, barely there but noticeable, twinged Andrew’s voice. The cats were Andrew’s favorite “annoying” assholes after Neil. Andrew came closer and Neil popped open the package.

“One’s missing.”

Neil shrugged and lifted his eyebrows as if to say, “And?” He was a 24 year old athlete with an endless appetite, not a saint.

Neil plucked another strawberry from the pack and brought it to his lips. Right before taking a bite, he gave Andrew a knowing look—feverish with delight and teasing. “It’s the thought that counts.”

And Andrew did scoff, but not at the strawberries. He ate a few too. They shared the package between them, the balcony relatively quiet despite the city noise below, and the light lilt of music filtering out to them. Dusk was upon them and painted Andrew in a soft golden halo from behind. Neil licked the chocolate from his fingers and stopped himself from sighing. Contentment was a soft breeze that ruffled both their hair and Neil wondered how anyone could question their romance.

So, Valentine’s Day ended up being just another day. Maybe it was true, that they were unromantic. Neil wasn’t an expert on romance. He knew the movies were unrealistic and their relationship was far from the norm. Still; coming home after weeks long away schedules, to a chorus of meowing chirps and Andrews steady gaze, left Neil breathless sometimes. In the quiet moments alone, he pinched himself. Having lived most his life in fight or flight, Neil had to remember it was okay. To be happy. Because that’s what it was. A weighted feeling that started in his stomach and left him feeling light—similar to the adrenaline rush of Exy—and Neil figured movies and big romantic gestures were overrated.

The romance was in watching Andrew silently get up to feed the cats early in the morning while Neil lounged in bed, limbs like jelly from a brutal game the night before, and shuffle back with a mumbled, “Damn cats.” It was in the hundreds of shared cigarettes on their balcony in the middle of restless nightmare-filled nights. In the trust when his fingertips spread out across Andrew’s forearms—bare of the armbands and knives—and their shared gaze. The pointed question, “yes or no?” His even more pointed answer, a little desperate but always honest, “yes.” The moments after, breath rapid and bodies spent, where the silence didn’t need to be filled. There wasn’t cuddling and Neil didn’t need it. Neil would take all the moments, the gazes, the touches, and the not-touches a thousand times over I love you’s.

Besides, Andrew said I love you.

There was a bit of chocolate on Andrew’s fingertips. Neil stared at it and let Andrew catch his gaze when he looked up from them.

“Yes or no?”

Anybody else would have just seen the heavy glare Andrew shot him. But Neil recognized the affection behind it. Exasperation too. Andrew lifted his hand and bit out, “100%, Josten.”

Right before he brought Andrew’s fingers to his lips he murmured out, a smile at the corners of his mouth and evident in his voice, “100%, Minyard.”


End file.
